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Thank God That Baby Bjorn is Washable

Austen just vomited up the entire contents of his stomach while facing me in the Baby Bjorn. I was so stunned a first that I froze, but when I heard the splat, splat of curdled milk dripping onto the kitchen floor through the legholes, I sprang into action and dashed upstairs. I got Austen out of the Bjorn and his sleeper suit (luckily the vomit hadn't soaked through his onesie), tried unsuccessfully to rinse the giant splotches of spew off my shirt in the bathroom sink (I finally just Shout-ed the heck out of it), scrubbed the tentacles of white goo that had crept down my pant leg with a wet washcloth, dressed Austen in a new sleeper suit, donned a new shirt myself, and called Al to tell him what happened—all in the space of five minutes. I've obviously moved on from Motherhood for Beginners to intermediate level.

I'll know I'm ready for Advanced Parenting when I no longer freeze before running up the stairs.